Nightingale
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Someone's been breaking into the Nakajima household, and tonight, after much deliberation, Nove is going to set the fool right in his place. /Post-SSX, pre-Vivid; WAFF/


**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.

_A/N: I'm sure everyone's had their share of encounters with the paranormal a few times. One experience that stands out in particular was when I went with my dad and brother to a cemetery in Chicago last year to pay respects (it was Fathers' Day), and for a brief second I got to see my paternal grandfather and great-grandfather standing by their tombstones. On the contrary, that particular tidbit wasn't what prompted me to write this story._

* * *

**Nightingale**

* * *

Nove lay awake in bed, listening to the footsteps. Her back was turned to the door, her eyes focused intently on Scruffy's tri-colored pelt shining like glory manifest in the moonlight. He could hear them too, she could tell, with his ears perked straight and feline irises wide and alert.

Could everyone else hear the footsteps just as well? Nove didn't know; she guessed they couldn't because they were too soundly asleep. Or perhaps it was because she never told them there might – _was_ – someone in their house, stalking the corridors and entering their bedrooms with a cautious gait that was almost damning.

There was a reason why she never spoke word of it, and it was a plausible if not a horrible reason to keep behind lock and key. Would they think her mad if she confessed? Would they say she wasn't getting sufficient sleep because of these noises, that they were the product of a restless mind?

What would they say if she told them those sounds were meant for _her_ and only her? What then? If those footsteps were meant for her, Nove couldn't provide the answer. Except she was going to learn why and how and who was lurking in the shadows of the dark. What motivation this person had in mind and what purpose he or she had in store for her.

It was the midnight hour, the beginning of a new day. The footsteps always started at midnight, on the dot and not a second late. That was how it was on the first night when the stranger made its entrance: a tune that beat to the metronome of a clockwork heart. It hadn't startled her awake for she was just as deep asleep as the rest of her sisters and the members of the Nakajima family. In fact, it wasn't even the footsteps that roused her from that gentle slumber.

That night, Nove felt a presence. She thought it had been one of the girls, checking in on her before she returned to her own room. Her first guess had been Cinque, the eldest of the group but the smallest, observing the constant flow of the world and the nature of man with her single remaining eye. Her second guess had been Wendi, loud and vivacious and too bright to look away, walking in her dreams as she searched for a way back to the cooling comfort of her mattress. It could have been any of the four. It could even have been the Nakajima clan themselves, Genya and Ginga and Subaru.

When Nove awoke and turned on her back, she expected one of the seven to be looming over her.

Instead she found herself staring at nothing. There was only the ceiling fan and the gloom of early morn. The footsteps, however, had still lingered, ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot. They had prompted her to snatch Jet Edge from under the pillow, fly out of bed, and cover every foot of corridor the house contained. Except it was empty, and there were no sign of disturbed grass save from her own footfalls when scouring the perimeter.

Her suspicions had appeared to be unfounded. They could have been the results culminated by her imagination for she was fully alert and her veins flowed with the rush of adrenaline.

But Nove didn't believe it to be so. She couldn't bring herself to believe it, and she wouldn't accept a resolution that may or may not otherwise turn out to be false.

A week had passed with little alteration. The footsteps continued at the same hour of every night. The clan was blissfully unaware.

Then, on the eighth night, Nove was startled awake with the sensation of fingers on her cheek. They were cold and hard and sent a jolt through her body. She had sat up, Jet Edge activated and aimed to fire, but again there was not a soul present in the room save herself and the cat.

What was going on? Why was it that only she could hear these footsteps and feel the touch of that hand? This had been happening for almost three weeks. It couldn't have been a burglar because nothing had been stolen and appeared out of place. It couldn't have been an assassin because Genya and the girls were still among the living and so was she. A thief should be able to slip in and out of the dark without ever making a sound and an assassin should be able to slit the throats of his victims before retreating into the night for his payment.

So what did that leave her?

Nove feigned sleep as the steps drew closer, right arm tucked under the pillow and Jet Edge active but silent. This intruder must be equipped with a cloaking shield, she thought. That had to be it. But weren't those only for Enforcers? She heard Subaru once say Teana possessed one, or was that Fate? She was an Enforcer as well. Cloaking shields were utilized in assassinations and authorized thefts provided by the Bureau; Nove had never heard of a mage whose Device was programmed with such applications.

So, either she was dealing with a rogue Enforcer…or a criminal who had finally mustered the courage to finish the task he carried forth.

It didn't matter. She would follow him just as quietly, and once they were outside and far from earshot….

Her fingers beneath the pillow twitched. Yes, it had been awhile since she'd been in a fight. Maybe this poor sod would give her that opportunity….

Scruffy meowed and perked his ears, eyes fixed on the door. Nove maintained the position, listening. The footsteps came to a stop, shuffled, stopped again. They were right outside the room, she knew. It took twelve steps from the nearest bedroom (Wendi and Dieci's) and three more to properly enter this room when going through the door.

What was he waiting for? Was he collecting his thoughts, maybe wiping sweaty hands on the latex of his pants? Was he steeling his heart and drawing the poisoned weapon from its sheath?

She cracked an eye open and stared at the alarm clock. One by one the minutes ticked by.

Twelve-oh-one.

Twelve-oh-two.

Twelve-oh three.

She rolled on her side and focused on Scruffy. His tail was thrashing wildly against the windowsill, thumping like a skin-tight drum. His expression remained unchanged.

When she turned back to the clock, it read twelve-thirty. What was taking him so long? A criminal shouldn't hesitate, shouldn't delay the inevitable. Was he having second thoughts—?

The footsteps start again, but now they are moving away from the bedroom. They grow faint, fade into muffled silence.

_Sir_, Jet Edge inquired, _what are your orders?_

_We follow 'im_, she told him. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. _Maintain silence until I give you the OK._

_As you command, Sir. Standby ready?_

_Definitely._ Barrier Jacket activated, Nove slipped through the door and crept down the hallway.

She stayed low to the wall and close to the shadows, keeping him out of sight but his footsteps within hearing range. His trail brought them out the main entrance into the cloying warmth of the night. The sky was clear, pristine as heat-blown glass and not a cloud to be found.

There was a full moon, and the earth was alight with silver glow of starshine. Proceeding along the street away from the house, Nove cast her gaze heavenward and had to marvel at how open it was. How many stars were out tonight? How many were able to fit in that space alone? It was strange that she could see them, considering the Nakajima family did not live far from Clanagan proper….

_'Sir, we are losing audio tracking on the target_, Jet Edge warned her. _'Please stay focused.'_

Nove realized what she was doing and swore. What was she thinking? The intruder was getting away, and here she was stargazing without a care in the world! She ran down the street and, once Jet Edge returned with the feed of the stranger's footsteps, slowed her pace to what it had been before.

Several minutes passed. Nove was deep in the suburbs and far away from the homestead. A stone arch appeared around the bend. She ducked behind the trunk of a tree, opened the zoom function in her eyes, and increased magnification until she could read the lettering on the structure.

**PORTFALL MEMORIAL GARDEN**

Ah hell, now she was dealing with a grave-robber? What kind of jobs did this fool do for a living? With a thought she closed the subroutine, crossed the street, and entered the cemetery. At least she would save time burying him if things went downhill and she had to resort to murder. No legalese meant saving a lot of money. That and it be justified on the grounds of self-defense.

She closed in on the target and finally got a good look at him. To her surprise it was not a man but a woman, with light purple hair cascading down her back and swaying in time to her gait.

Wait a second….

_Is that Ginga?_ She looked so much like her. If that was…she opened the zoom function again and scanned the woman. A wall of zeroes and ones scrolled and scrambled at her periphery.

"What…the…?" This couldn't be right. Everything was…what was this?

_Thermoregulation: NONE  
__Brain Function: NONE  
__Heart Rate (bpm): ZERO_

"Jet, are you getting this? What do your readings show?"

_Initial results are inconclusive with those of Mistress Nakajima's_, he replied. _Incongruity matches have returned negative._

"That's impossible." Because if that was so, it meant the woman was…no, just conjuring the thought was ludicrous. "What's your status?"

_All systems are optimal, Sir. Systems and subroutines are in the green._

"Are you telling me we're not being jammed? At all?"

_Negative, Sir. Scans show the target is not equipped with a Device._ That meant she wasn't a mage, and civilians were prohibited from owning high-tech armaments like cloaking shields and Devices (be they Armed or Intelligent) unless they registered for the military academy or government secret services.

"So then what the hell are we looking at?"

Jet Edge was silent before he replied: _Error processing request. My apologies, Sir._

That did not help. A wave of helpless rage washed over her, directed not at her Device was unable to provide sufficient results but at the woman whose resemblance to the eldest Nakajima daughter was so striking and _so very, very wrong_. That…that _bitch_ could have killed her, killed them – the clan and her sisters. She could have pinned the blame on Ginga and ruined the girl's life because she wore her face and her hair and her body.

Nove ground her teeth. She picked up her pace and via Linker Core and her own systems powered the Gun Knuckle to life; its wheels squealed in the funereal quiet. _Begin synchronization program – injection GK to JE. Reroute power to all primary outlets. Execute standby mode – IS program Break Liner dot EXE, Air Liner dot EXE._ She cracked her knuckles, popped her neck.

_Synchronization complete_, both Jet Edge and Gun Knuckle reported. _Standby ready._

The woman was standing in front of a tombstone dwarfed in the glittering shade of a pomegranate tree. Somewhere in its branches a nightingale trilled and whistled gaily. As Nove approached her, she said, "You finally came. I didn't think you'd catch up."

"Turn around," Nove growled, "and face me."

The woman turned around. Nove hissed. Yes, she looked just like Ginga: long mauve hair, bushy brows, jade irises, with a slender frame and an air of vitality. Strong, beautiful, youthful. "You bitch. How dare you wear my friend's face…!"

"This is the only face I wear," said the woman, unfazed by the venom laced in the girl's voice. "Why would I change it?"

"Don't bullshit with me. I know what you're up to."

She arched a brow. "Oh? You do?"

"You're breaking into my home, stalking the halls, entering our rooms. And for what? You have it out for us or something? Vendettas aren't gonna get you anywhere, lady, 'cause let me give it to you straight," Nove jabbed a finger at her, pierced her with a dark glare, "If you so much as touch _a hair_ on any of my sisters or any of the Nakajima, _especially_ Ginga, I promise you _I will fuck you up_." A warning regarding the rise in blood pressure popped on the HUD, to which she closed out of as soon as it appeared. "You can touch me as much as you want; you _will not_ lay a hand on my family and friends because I will _kill you_. Do I make myself clear?"

The woman smiled. "I assure you, Nove, I would never hurt a soul, not even those I have called my children. Were I a lesser mage, I'd be very afraid to cross you."

"You just did." How did she know her name? And what was this about her children?

"It wasn't my intention to anger you. I wanted to check on you, your sisters, everyone. It wasn't too long ago you had fought the Mariages, yes? I know the girls are very much capable of taking care of themselves…but I was worried. I had to see if they were alright, if Subaru was alright, because she was the one who was closest to Ixpellia; their bond was so powerful, and to have it suddenly severed like that—"

"Who are you?" Nove demanded. "How do you know all this? What do you want with us?"

"I want nothing from you. I've no need of earthly possessions. And as for how I know everything? Well," she laughed, "I'm a ghost. I have sources."

There was a moment of silence.

"WHAT?" Nove cried, so loudly the woman cringed. She sputtered, tried to search for words that couldn't come, and all the while the cyborg part of her brain exploded with pop-up errors and confirmation notices begging for administrative action. The other half that was human, unenhanced by cybernetic augmentations, forced into her vocal box the only thing that came to mind: "Y-Y-You're crazy, woman! Apeshit crazy!"

"But I am a ghost," said the woman. "I've been dead for eleven years. I've already crossed over, but I asked the guardians if I could return to this plane and they granted my permission. They're very finicky, yes they are, but I understand they don't want the other spirits to abuse their visitation privileges."

"No! No! NO! You are _not_ dead! I can see you! I'm talking to you! I…I felt _you_, felt your hand on my face and I don't know why but goddamn was your hand cold—!" Nove paced back and forth, paced round and around in circles.

"It's because I'm dead," she said wistfully, watching her. "People don't generate warmth when they're dead, not unless you're an angel."

"You're insane, lady. Abso-fucking-lutely insane. I know!" Nove stopped. "How about you drop that guise and I knock some common sense into you? That's a good idea, a _fantastic_ idea, because the only people that think they're dead – in-fucking-vincible or invisible or whatever the shit you want to call it – are the dumbfucks behind bars wearing straitjackets and digging escape tunnels with a goddamn spoon!"

"It's not going to work, Nove, and you know it."

"Like hell it's going to! Just stand still and let me cave your head in!" She clenched a fist and homed in on the woman.

The woman held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Believe me, Nove, if I were still alive I'd have mopped the floor with you. It wouldn't have even taken five minutes. You can't win this."

"Try me!" And Nove struck…only for her hand to go through. "What the…!"

"See?" the woman sighed.

Nove ground her teeth. She punched again and again and again, and when that didn't work she resorted to mixing it up with a flurry of kicks and elbow jabs. When she was doubled over and out of breath, she lunged at the woman and clawed at her face. The woman remained standing even as the younger girl fell flat on her face and propped herself up against the tombstone. "What…sorcery…is this?" she panted. "Nothing's…working!"

"I told you it wouldn't."

Nove got to her feet. "What are you? Are you an illusion? Am I dreaming of Ginga finally having her revenge for the things I've done to her? 'Cause if you are—"

"I'm not an illusion and I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm the real deal and always will be."

"Then why do you look so much like her? Looking at you…at her," she bowed her head, "why must you torment me?"

The woman hesitated. Slowly, achingly, she rested a hand on Nove's shoulder; it did not phase through. "Nove," she began. "I'm not here to punish you. It's not in my power to do so. If it was…if it was in my power, I believe the guilt you have inside is more than enough, and do you know why? It's because I believe raising a hand against my children - against anyone - will only lead to more suffering, not unless it is absolutely called for. I joined the Capital Defense Corps to assist those weaker than me, to protect and serve my motherland against all threats. If I were not so kind, not so forgiving or less human, I would never have become the woman I was at the peak of my prime." She placed her other hand on that empty shoulder and looked Nove in the eye. "You've had time to ruminate your past actions. How do you feel now?"

"…I feel bad. Awful. I still dream about it every now and again, hitting her, hurting her." Carrying her off to the man who would reprogram her as Designation Number Thirteen. "And every time I look at her I can't help but wonder—"

"What she thinks of you?" Nove nodded. "It's been…two years since that happened. She's moved past it. She's forgiven you a long time ago, and I bet if you asked her she would tell you the same thing I'm telling you." The woman glanced at the tombstone. "Time heals all wounds, time and patience. If you can reflect on your sins and accept the consequences of those actions, you will find the strength to forgive yourself and move forward. You can't stay in the past forever because, while it's important to remember the lessons you've learned and not repeat them, at some point you have to let go. The past, I've been told, is both relevant and irrelevant; you take from one and give with the other." She looked back at the girl. "Do you understand, Nove? Can you do that? Can you let go?"

"I…I think so…."

"Don't say you think so. _Can you_?"

"Yes." Nove looked up at the woman. "I…I want to let go and forget. I…I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

"That's my girl," the woman beamed. She pulled Nove in and embraced her. The grip on her back was firm, loving; for a moment, Nove thought she could feel the warmth of the elder's hands, the rise and fall of her chest as her breath caressed the shell of her ear. It felt…nice.

"I know you have it in you, Nove. Don't be afraid. You're a strong girl."

"Oh…um…thank you. Er…"

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"It's just, well, you never told me why you look so much like Ginga. Or what your name is. I, um" Good Gods, now she was getting pop-ups about the heat _rising in her cheeks_ "can't thank you properly if I don't know your name." Because calling her 'lady' every time wasn't going to cut it.

"Oh, that's right! I completely forgot about that!" the woman laughed, and here she pulled away and smiled. "Well, Nove, the question you should be asking is not why I look like Ginga but rather why she looks like _me_. She and Subaru are my genetic clones…and if my sources are indeed correct, so are _you_."

"…Huh?" What did she say? Wait. Wait, wait, _wait_. "Are you saying I'm—?"

"Bingo," she said, and with her finger she flicked the younger's nose. "Out of the three, you're the baby…and my daughter."

Her eyes widened, her pupils dilated. This time she didn't stop the onslaught of messages prompting her to shut down administration and, quite appropriately, pass out. But she didn't; overwhelmed and suddenly drained, she could only utter three simple words: "…You're my mother?"

"Yes," the woman said softly. "I am. My name is Quint Nakajima."

"Quint," she said, rolling the name on her tongue. "Mother." Gold irises met viridian. "That was you. Your hand…you were…."

"No matter what mistakes you've made in the past, know that I forgive you. Know that I love you…and I always will." She lifted her hand and, as it flickered and grew cold as it closed the distance, stroked the child's cheek. Quint smiled. "My little girl."

Nove sniffled. Her face did not crumple but her eyes stung, and with each blink a pair of tears spilled freely. "I'm not little," she choked out. "I-I'm s-sixteen. Pr-Practically an ad-adult."

Quint giggled and wiped her own face. "I know, but that won't stop me from calling you that. You and Subaru and Ginga always will be my little girls." She, too, sniffed, and pat Nove's cheek. "I'm sorry, I have to go now."

"No!" Nove cried. "No, don't leave me! I…I just met you and I—!" _I want you to stay! Forever!_ "Don't go," she whimpered.

"I'm sorry," Quint repeated. "I'll come back. I promise."

"Please…."

"You have my word, Nove; I won't betray it."

"Thank you…."

"Oh, and Nove? I want you to know that, even when I am not here on the mortal plane, I'll be there for you. All of you. I'm in your blood. Never forget that."

"I won't."

"Good girl. Now go home and get some rest. It's very late."

"I will, Mom. I…I won't be long." She sat down and leaned against the tombstone.

"Okay. Take care, my child. I love you."

"I love you, too, mama," Nove whispered, but Quint was gone. It was only her and the stars above. She tilted her head back and gazed sleepily at the clusters and the constellations that fit in that space alone.

And in the back of her mind she wondered…Which star was Quint's?

* * *

_Sir? Are you alright? Can you copy, over?_

_I'm…I'm okay, Jet. I'm fine._

_Sir, you have been unresponsive for the past two hours and fifteen minutes. Do you require medical attention?_

_No…that won't be necessary, Gun. I'll…be okay._

_Sir, the target is still listed as the prime directive. Shall we proceed after her?_

_No, Jet. That won't be necessary._

_What are your orders, Sir?_

_Desynch from injection and close out of standby mode. Return all power to Linker Core. Assume administrative control and proceed with shut down._

_As you command, Sir._

Nove slept.

* * *

It was seven o'clock the next morning when she awoke and eight o'clock when she arrived on the doorstep to the Nakajima household. The whole clan was up and about, gathered around the kitchen table conversing and eating breakfast.

Ginga was standing at the island speaking to Blitz Caliber. She looked so grim….

"I'm back," Nove announced.

Before the entire table could erupt, Ginga rushed over and snatched the girl in a tight hug. "You idiot, where were you? We were worried sick about you! What the hell were you thinking, sneaking off into the night without warning?"

"I was thinking about a lot of things. I…I needed guidance." She wrapped her arms around the elder's waist and held her, buried her face in her chest. "I found it."

Ginga wasn't sure what to say, so stunned was she at Nove's unusual demeanor. Still she pressed on, saying, "You could have asked us if something was bothering you. Where did you go, anyway?"

"To Portfall. I got to meet mama."

"Mama?" Ginga choked. Her heart skipped, and it was as though the world was tilting on its axis and causing everything to slide toward that dangled edge.

At the same time, Subaru spat juice all over the table and broke into a coughing fit. "Wh-What did you just say?" she panted.

"I said I met Mom, you dope," Nove chided, muffled as it was. "I saw her and we talked for a little bit. She said I'm the baby of the family and that she loves me and everyone here at home."

Genya fidgeted in his seat. "Perhaps you were merely dreaming, Nove."

She shook her head. "No, she was real. She touched me, held me." She squeezed Ginga – her friend, her oldest sister, her _family_– harder. "She made me feel loved…."

Cinque hummed thoughtfully and sipped at her cup of water. "Your wife's name was Quint, wasn't it, Father? Her genetic material was passed on to Ginga and Subaru."

"Yes, that was her name. In a way you could say she _is _their biological mother even though they were not born via conventional means. But Nove…I find it hard to believe she communicated with Quint's spirit."

"She's been watching us since the Mariage Incident 'cause she was worried. She had to make sure we were alright before she…" Nove pressed her face deeper, and Ginga could feel her blouse dampen with her tears. "I'm not making this up. You have to believe me."

"Hey hey, it's okay, kid," Gin consoled her and ran a soothing hand through fire-engine red hair. "Don't cry. We're just surprised, that's all, but Dad has a point. We can't determine your relation because of one night's communion. We need results, proven facts." She glanced at her father. "We have an appointment with Mari today, don't we? We could have her look into it when we get there."

Genya nodded. "It's the only way to find out."

* * *

"I don't believe it," Mari breathed.

Genya couldn't, either. Their eyes were riveted to the output screen as it continued to scan the three girls in the area below them. "She was telling the truth," he murmured. He placed a hand on the mirror and gazed at the centermost pod where Nove, his youngest daughter, lay. "I thought her tale to be the fabrication of a dream. I…still have trouble understanding."

"Life sure is strange sometimes…it has a funny way of telling us things we aren't always privy to. But you know, even if there had been the possibility that she wasn't your daughter, she would still be considered a part of the family. Bonds like that are almost unbreakable when you're surrounded by those you care and love, don't you think?"

The thought alone reminded Genya when Quint was still alive, when their days were spent in each other's company and within arm's length. The years they spent attending the academy, participating in the DSAA Inter-Middle with their friends, among themselves following the wedding and the investigation into the Combat Cyborg facility where they found (and, later, adopted) Ginga and Subaru.

It felt both nostalgic and unpleasant to reminiscence such memories: nostalgic because he and their children had adjusted to her so well, got to appreciate her quirks and flaws and reciprocate her love as she did to them. The days had been golden and the nights sweet and saccharine. Yet it was unpleasant, too, because, until she had been rehabilitated, Nove had known next to nothing about the concept of family. Yes, she had regarded her fellow Combat Cyborgs as her sisters-in-arms, but they had been weapons for a man who did not see them as people but tools that were expendable, tools to be used and thrown away once his clones residing within them were born and repeated the cycle.

He, on the other hand, thought the opposite. He believed all six girls to be people who had the misfortune of carrying the burden of what they were: not wholly human but not wholly machine. He was there for his daughters and he was already there for the Numbers, and Quint….

His faith had taken a blow when they learned she was barren and it had died when she had been killed. To hear Nove recount her experience…it reminded him how Quint had so easily accepted Ginga and Subaru as her own even before she had learned they contained her stolen DNA.

It was like twisting a knife embedded in flesh, but he was happy for them. It still sounded very farfetched, but if Nove said she had met her mother then who was he to judge?

"You're right, Miss Atenza," he said, stepping back from the see-through window. "As long as she has us, she will never be alone." He would see to it.

* * *

**One Year Later, 0079** **M.C.**

Nove lay awake in bed, listening to the footsteps. Her back was turned to the door, her eyes focused intently on Scruffy's tri-colored pelt shining like glory manifest in the moonlight. He could hear them too, she could tell, with his ears perked straight and feline irises wide and alert.

Could everyone else hear the footsteps just as well? Nove didn't know; she guessed they couldn't because they were too soundly asleep. Or perhaps it was because she never told them there might – _was_ – someone in their house, stalking the corridors and entering their bedrooms with a cautious gait that was almost damning.

But she wasn't afraid, not anymore.

Scruffy mewed weakly and curled up in a ball, curling his tail across his paws. "It's alright," she assured him. "You don't have to be scared. I know this person."

She wasn't surprised when Quint abruptly and noiselessly appeared at her bedside. Scruffy, on the other hand, hopped off the sill and scrambled out of the room as though hell itself was nipping at his heels. "I really hope he doesn't start whining," she groaned. "He can be so _noisy_."

"You should be lucky. I had birds when I was your age and they were ten times _worse_. Couldn't shut them up even if you'd thrown a sheet over their cage."

"You sure those weren't your brothers?"

Quint barked laughter. "I suppose they would count, too! They were quite hot-blooded and very overprotective of me." She sighed and plopped down on the mattress. "Don't tell them I said that if you ever get the chance to meet them. I would never hear the end of it."

"If I do. I don't know anything about the family, yours or Dad's." It had never been brought up because they had never suspected one of the Numbers would be carrying their mother's genes, but now….

Nove closed her eyes, relishing the softness of Quint's fingers as it stroked the top of her head. She could hear the tender smile in her voice. "Why don't I tell you? I have time."

"How much?" she mumbled sleepily.

"A lot."

"Shoot the pickle, then." Nove pressed into the cusp of that hand and sighed, more content than she had ever known in her short life. "I'm all ears."


End file.
